You Are the Only Girl in the World
by OliviaGracex35
Summary: Matthew arrives at Downton after missing for a few days and joins Mary in a duet during the concert for the soldiers. Matthew, being the lovesick puppy that he is, does not want to leave Downton to see Lavinia in London, so when Mary suggests he stay at Downton, Matthew leaps at the opportunity. AU from Sx04.
1. Chapter 1

_If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy..._

Mary's heart had leapt into her throat when Matthew waltzed into the room. Her chest tightened; her throat constricted; she couldn't breathe. Her practiced smile faded away to reveal a look of stunned relief-it was one of the few moments Lady Mary Crawley did not have complete control of her faculties.

_Oh thank God,_ she had whispered.

And then he smiled. Oh, that beautiful smile. He looked so calm, so relaxed-did he not know her whole world would have fallen apart had he not turned up alive? How could he be so calm?

His blue eyes lit up and the next thing she knew, he was walking towards her, singing the next line of the song.

_I would say such wonderful things to you._

And for a moment, Mary forgot there were other people in the room.

Until they joined Matthew in song.

The concert had been over for a few minutes and Mary found Matthew talking to her father. Mrs. Hughes approached the pair and whispered something to her father, causing Robert to excuse himself from Matthew, leaving Matthew on his own. He looked around at all the people milling about the house until his eyes settled on Mary, dear, sweet Mary. He gave her one of his patented half-smiles, hoping it would draw her closer.

She should have moved. She should have retreated into the dark recesses of her house, away from him, where she could be alone and pretend the blonde-haired hero did not exist. But it was too late. It was always too late when it came to Matthew Crawley. He had spotted her and if she fled, he would only follow. She withheld a sigh as she approached him. "What will you do with the rest of your leave?"

He was slightly startled by her direct question. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked up there, how wonderful her voice sounded, but the words were caught in his throat, wrestling with his heart who knew what it was to be in love, and his mind who knew better judgment. He knew he'd never say these things to her anyway, even if she hadn't asked such a pointed question. "I'm not sure," he said, his brow furrowing, "Mother's gone to France, so I'm not quite sure what I will do. I could go see her, I suppose...Or maybe go to London..."

_To see Lavinia,_ their minds thought in chorus.

"Back to France so soon when you've only just arrived?" she asked, forcing a small smile on her face.

He eyed her cautiously. "Well, I certainly couldn't stay here, I-"

"Of course you could," Mary interrupted without thinking. She watched his eyebrows rise up his forehead and she internally cursed herself. "You know Mama and Papa would love to have you stay here, their great war hero," she teased, trying to turn the tables, or at least put them on even ground. How was he still so calm?

He couldn't help but grin, though he didn't feel like much of a war hero. "If you're sure it isn't an imposition..."

"Nonsense," she said, shaking her head, "I'll go tell Mrs. Hughes to have the maids make up a room for you. See you at dinner tonight." She excused herself from him with a smile, eagerly heading off to search for Mrs. Hughes. She would need to let Mama know for dinner seating as well, but that could be dealt with later.

Matthew was staying under the same roof as Mary, and she didn't know if she wanted to run and hide or scream with joy.

* * *

_A/N: So I know this is a rather short chapter, but when I realized how long this thing would be, I wanted to break it up a little and this seemed like an excellent place to break it up. If you have the time, feel free to drop me a note and let me know what you think of my drabble! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has submitted a review! I believe I have PM'd everyone who logged in to send a review, and to those who sent in as guest, thank you as well! I'm so glad people have read and enjoyed this little story. I wasn't planning on it being that long, but as I was writing this chapter, I realized I could turn it into something bigger. What I do with it remains to be seen! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this_—_it's a little longer than the first chapter. :)_

* * *

Mary had survived dinner, but just barely. Cora had expertly placed Matthew next to her eldest daughter, knowing the two of them would be forced into talking to each other. Her heart simultaneously ached and soared as they talked, never a dull moment between the two. They even managed to laugh every now and then.

Now that the women were in the drawing room, Mary took the opportunity to relax. She was out from underneath Matthew's watchful eye for just a few moments, and she needed the time to prepare herself for round three.

Noting Mary's lack of input in tonight's discussions, Cora withdrew from the conversation with Violet and Edith to look at Mary. "You and Matthew sure did seem to have a lot to talk about at dinner," she commented, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

Mary could have rolled her eyes at her mama, but she wasn't up for the chastising that would inevitably draw more attention to her. "Yes, Mama," she said evenly, her voice lacking emotion, "We are friends, you know. Friends tend to be able to carry a conversation for more than two minutes."

"And do friends flirt with one another as well?" Cora asked, peering at her daughter over top of her glass of wine. If Mary could snap at Cora, Cora could do it right back to her.

Mary's face remained stoic; she merely raised an eyebrow at her mama. "Need I remind you, Matthew is engaged to Lavinia and I to—"

The door opened and in walked Carson, followed closely by Robert and Matthew. Matthew flashed Mary a quick smile before making his way to Cousin Violet and taking a seat beside her.

Robert walked to his wife, standing between her and where Mary sat in the chair beside the divan, a hand on his wife's shoulder. "And what are you two whispering so urgently about?"

"Nothing," Mary hissed, immediately rising from her chair and walking to the window.

Matthew hadn't been too involved in Cousin Violet's conversation with Edith, having just arrived; mostly, he had been nodding his head, his eyes on Mary (how could they not be on her?). When she rose so suddenly from her chair, he had to force himself to stay in his for a few beats to avoid suspicious looks before standing to join her at the window. "Everything alright with you and Cousin Cora?"

Mary jumped when she heard his deep voice sound beside her, but she pretended it didn't happen. "Yes, everything is fine," she said, though her voice still had an edge to it.

Matthew knew better than to pry. With Mary, pushing her to reveal too much before she was ready never ended well. "Good," he said, pausing for a moment before continuing, "You know, I meant to tell you I thought you did a splendid job at the concert this afternoon."

"Yes, I would have been the talk of the town if I hadn't been upstaged," Mary teased, finally shifting her gaze to look at him.

Matthew glanced over at her, his eyes studying her face. He licked his lips, as if he were preparing them for what he was about to say. "Did you worry about me, Mary?" he asked, his voice quiet so the others wouldn't hear. It was a secret he and Mary carried and only the two of them could know. He couldn't risk anyone overhearing and telling Lavinia..._Lavinia_...

The smile slowly faded from her face. She searched his eyes, the seriousness of his question filling her body. _Of course I did. I nearly fell to pieces when I heard you were missing. Do you know what that would have done to me?_ "I—"

"Matthew, Cousin Violet is leaving and she would like a word. She's waiting for you out in the hall."

Robert's voice caught Matthew's ear and yanked him out of his conversation with Mary. "Excuse me," he muttered, quickly exiting the room and following Violet out into the Great Hall. "Cousin Violet, you wished to see me?" he said, trying to push the irritation from his voice.

Violet stood by the front door, her coat wrapped around her body. She waited for Matthew to cross the Hall before speaking. "Yes, Matthew," she began, her voice the closest thing to a whisper as she could make it, "I saw the way you and Mary—"

"Cousin Violet, I don't think—"

"Will you let me finish?" Her sharp voice was no longer a whisper. It was demanding and quick, much like the Dowager Countess herself. When Matthew nodded, Violet continued. "I saw the way you and Mary were interacting at dinner. This may shock you, but she is still in love with you." Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but Violet held up a hand to silence him. "Matthew, I have never thought you to be a dumb man, but you are being frightfully passive right now." Lavinia's face flashed through Violet's mind; she was the very _definition_ of passive. "Now, you have the ability to choose what kind of life you will have, yet you sit on your hands and do nothing like a petulant four-year-old. Matthew," she said, repeating his name to make sure he was still listening, looking up into his eyes, his expression hardened by her insults, "You are about to make a grave mistake. The good news is, you have the chance to right your wrong before it is too late. Do not let this chance slip through your fingers again." Before Matthew could respond, Violet turned and walked out of the front door and into the waiting car.

Matthew rubbed his face, dumbfounded by Cousin Violet's honesty. He watched the car drive off into the night, her statements replaying in his mind. Was he about to make a grave mistake in marrying Lavinia? Should he give Mary a second—third—chance?

He walked back into the drawing room to resume his conversation with Mary, but she was nowhere to be found.

* * *

_A/N: Well, do you still love it? Hate it? What do you think of me pulling Granny's little speech to now instead of after he was injured? I think this could have made a world of difference in Matthew's world, but you let me know what you think! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So! Here's chapter three. Thank you to everyone, guest and logged in user, who sent in a review with your comments and thoughts. I really appreciate it-no only did you take the time to read my story, but you left your thoughts here for me to ponder as well. I would like to give a shoutout to_ **jmar**_ for reminding me this is AU. (I know that sounds silly, but bear with me.) The little push from jmar allowed me to write this chapter. I had three different ideas on how this chapter could go, and I wound up writing this one because of jmar's awesome advice. :) To the guest who was asking about Isobel-I decided to keep the canon storyline for her. She's in France after her argument with Cora. Since this is AU, I could bring her back anytime I wanted to, but for now, she shall remain in France. Her future remains to be seen. :) _

_Lemme just warn you: this chapter is really, really AU. One of the things that bothered me the most about MM was that they never properly had it out after their broken off engagement at the end of S1. I know it partially had to do with the British "stiff upper lip" (quoting JF) and the fact that revealing one's feelings wasn't a customary occurrence in 20th century British society. But this is AU and I can do what I want. :)_

_Without further ado, here it is! :)_

* * *

Mary fled. It was the only logical option left. She couldn't answer Matthew's question. It had no answer. If she said yes, his hands would reach for her, to comfort her, telling her it would all be ok. But no one knew for sure. Not now. Not during wartime. If she said no, she would be cold and unfeeling, pushing Matthew away because she didn't know how to let him in.

It was a conversation she couldn't win. And Lady Mary Crawley did not lose.

She watched Matthew and Granny talk near the front door, thankful she couldn't hear their conversation. No doubt she was praising him for moving on or chastising him for his inability to leave Mary alone. Granny was such a fickle thing; you could never really be sure what she was going to say next.

When Matthew turned to walk back to the drawing room, Mary retreated into her room, slamming the door loudly behind her. She heard a gasp and something hit the ground. She released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing, a wave of peace washing over her body. "Anna, I'm so sorry for startling you," she said as she turned to face her maid.

"It's fine, m'lady," Anna said, bending over to pick up the brush she had dropped, "I was just readying the room for you..." Her voice trailed off when she straightened, her eyes settling on Lady Mary. "Are you quite well, m'lady?" she asked hesitantly. While her mistress was sporting her usual brave face, she looked rather pale, and there was an unwelcome sadness in her eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." Mary's voice faltered, giving her away. She knew Anna would never pursue the topic, though; despite their years and years of knowing each other, they were mistress and servant first, friends second. Anna was good at her job and she knew better than to cross that line. "Please, help me with my hair. I've a terrible headache and I would like to go to bed."

* * *

"What on earth was that?" Robert had taken Mary's seat beside his wife after his daughter vacated it. His eyes shifted to Matthew, who was standing in the doorway. He moved to stand up, but saw Matthew hold out his hand.

"Not to worry, Cousin Robert, I'll go see what it was." Matthew flashed Robert a quick smile before turning to leave the room.

_Mary._ It must have been Mary. No servant would dream of slamming doors—especially at this late hour and with the house full of healing, sleeping soldiers.

He hurried up the stairs and down the hall, trying to remember which room was Mary's. He began knocking on doors at random until he heard two voices on the other side of the door.

"Mary," he said softly, "Mary, it's Matthew. Your father sent me up here to see you—are you alright?"

Mary closed her eyes and shook her head; of course he came after her, he always did. She could feel Anna staring at her, waiting for instruction, but Mary could hardly plan her own next move, let alone direct Anna's.

"Mary, don't force me to be ungentlemanly. I don't want to open the door, but—"

"I'm fine," Mary said instantly. The last time there was a man in her room... "I'm alright, Matthew. Thank you for your concern."

"I wish you'd open the door so I could see for myself." Despite her reassurances, his voice was still full of worry.

Mary sighed, but gave the nod to Anna to open the door. All of her pins were out of her hair, but she still wore her red evening gown. It was the only reason Mary let Anna open the door. When Matthew appeared in the doorway, she smiled at him, lifting her arms before letting them flop back down against her sides. "See? I told you. Perfectly fine."

Matthew stood in the doorway, dumbstruck by the sight before him. He didn't even notice Anna sidle past him to leave the two of them alone. He had never seen Mary with her hair down before. It was longer than he had expected it to be, and much wavier. He wanted to reach out, wind his fingers in her hair, and kiss her senseless. Right now, he'd be lucky if he could form a sentence in her presence. Finally, he nodded. "Right. Good. Thank you." He stared at the expectant look on her face. Was she waiting for him to say something? Leave? He very much didn't want to leave. "You never answered my question," he blurted out. He took a step into her room, but left the door open.

Now it was Mary's turn to be bewildered. The emotionally-spent woman no longer had a mask to hide behind. Isn't that what he was the best at? Catching Lady Mary off guard? "What do you want me to say, Matthew?" she asked, her voice sharp, "What answer are you looking for from me?"

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Mary, I—"

"No!" she said, holding a hand up to silence him; she could be so like her grandmother when she wanted to be. "You don't get to _'Mary please'_ me or _'God, Mary'_ me this time. I won't have it."

"Why are you so—"

"Are you _mad_?" she nearly yelled at him, throwing her arms up in the air, "Are you really asking me why I'm upset? As if you didn't know?" She watched him open his mouth to speak, but she kept barreling on, knowing if she stopped to let him defend himself, she'd lose her nerve. "You want to know if I was worried about you? _Of course_ I was worried about you—I _am_ worried about you, Matthew. How could I not be? I've been worrying about you since Papa made the announcement at the garden party two years ago. I knew you'd be drafted right along with all the other eligible men for heaven knows how long. But I'm not supposed to say these things, don't you know that? I lost the right two years ago at the very same garden party."

He gaped at her, scarcely aware his mouth was hanging open. He rubbed his face, releasing a long sigh. "I'm sorry, Mary," he said at last, his eyes settling on her flushed face. "If I had known you were so upset, I—"

"You what?" she interrupted, "Wouldn't have come back to Downton? You could hardly do that—it will be your home someday."

He sighed again. "I understand if you're still bitter about it, but it is—"

"_Bitter_?" Mary spat, "You think _that's_ what I'm bitter about? If you do, you don't know me at all, Matthew Crawley."

He groaned, withdrawing his hands from his pockets to throw them up in the air. "If that is not what you're bitter about, then what is?"

Jaw clenched, she narrowed her eyes at him. She could feel the anger in her cheeks; everything she had kept hidden under the well-mannered surface was bubbling to the top tonight. _Now or never. Don't back down now._ She folded her arms over her chest, raising that infamous eyebrow at him. She had to look fierce or else her next statement would make her crumble. "This was supposed to be _our_ home." She saw his face soften and he took a few steps closer to her, but she wasn't done yet. "This was supposed to be our home, together, but you were too proud to give me time to be sure of myself and I was too stupid to accept you outright. And here we are, two years later, stuck in the same rut as before. Don't think I can't see those furtive glances you cast at me when you think I'm not looking, and of course you can accuse me of the same. But I can't stop myself from looking at you, no matter how hard I try. Every time you come home to Downton on leave may be the last time I see you. But I can't think about that because I'll fall to pieces if I do."

"Mary," he said, closing the space between them, taking her shoulders in his hands, "I had no idea you felt that way." He couldn't even be angry with her to argue that it didn't happen that way. Cousin Violet was right. Mary still loved him. Mary still envisioned a future with him. His heart felt as if it would burst in his chest.

She wanted to shake his hands off her shoulders, but his touch felt so welcome after having to stand so far apart for the sake of good manners. "You jolly well pried it out of me," she said, forcing a laugh. She felt her resolve weakening under his intense stare. She couldn't believe she had just unleashed on him like that, but she also felt relieved to finally speak her mind.

He chuckled, giving a soft shrug. "I'm glad of it." He brushed a wave of hair out of her face, indulging himself for just a moment and allowing his fingers to sweep through her hair. "You aren't alone, you know," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She had expected Matthew to remind her that he was promised to Lavinia and she to Richard. She had expected a verbal lashing, asking her to remember herself and her manners. She hadn't expected this. "Not alone in what?" she asked, needing to hear him say it or else she wouldn't believe it.

"You aren't going to make this easy on me, are you?" he said, a laugh coloring his voice. He licked his lips, rubbing his thumbs against her shoulders. "I wanted this to be our future too," he said slowly, his voice soft, "But I..." he began, the words getting caught in his throat. He had never been so honest when it came to matters of the heart, especially with Mary. She called him out, though, and knew his pride had been the thing that kept him from waiting for her. How stupid he had been to reject her.

"But you what?" she prompted, sensing his hesitation.

_She isn't going to let this drop._ He gripped her shoulders tighter, as if he were trying to brace them both for what he was about to say. "But I can't go back in time and change the past." He saw her face harden and he felt her attempts to pull away. He held firm to her shoulders, refusing to let her go. "However much I might want to," he added, his voice thick with sincerity, "And believe me, Mary, when I say I want to." She stopped struggling beneath his grasp as a smile slipped across his lips. His hands traveled down the length of her body, settling on her waist, pulling her closer, his lips pressing against hers lightly for a kiss.

Mary was so stunned by his actions she froze. When she realized it was Matthew—_her_ Matthew—with his hands on her waist and his lips against hers, she melted into him, her arms sliding around his neck, pressing her lips more firmly against his. When she thought of how long she had been dreaming of this...

His arms encircled her, pulling their chests together. She felt so much thinner, so much more frail than the last time he held her like this. How had she changed so much? Is this what the war and the worrying had done to her? He felt stupid for thinking the war had only affected the men. He felt her fingertips brush against the back of his head and he bit her lip to suppress a sigh. He pressed his palm flat against her back, his skin rippling out with goosebumps at the feel of her bare back beneath his hand. It was simply a sliver, a small patch peeking out between the fabric of her dress, but it excited him more than he could explain.

She wound her fingers in his thick hair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She tugged gently on his hair as she felt Matthew start to back her up towards her bed. A scene from her past rushed forward from the dark recesses of her mind, its unfortunate events replaying themselves for her in a flash, down to carrying the body back to its room of origin. She suddenly pushed Matthew away, her eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze.

His shoulders slumped as he watched her, realizing the gravity of what he had done. "Mary, I'm so—"

"No. Don't speak," she whispered, "Please leave."

"Please, Mary, let me apolo—"

"There's no need," she assured him, "It doesn't concern you. Just go. Please."

Her eyes were still closed. Why wouldn't she look at him? He sighed and nodded, though she couldn't see it. "If you wish. Goodnight, Mary." He turned and exited her room, dejectedly walking down the hall to his own.

She opened her eyes once she was sure he'd left the room, quickly closing the door behind him.

Even if Matthew were to throw over Lavinia, how could she begin to tell him about Pamuk?

* * *

_A/N: I'm _dying_ to know what you guys think! Was the fight too much? Not enough? Should Mary have let Matthew keep going? Should Mary have kicked him out right from the off? Please let me know what you think! You guys have been great so far and I've loved hearing your guys' input. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I apologize for taking so long with this chapter! Updates may come a little slower now; I had to rewatch series two because I couldn't remember how the dynamic with MM developed over the season. I know it's AU, but some of it will still be based on S2 for the time being. Also, I need to do some research that involves reading two pretty thick books for my coming chapters. I have over half the story plotted out, though so yay for that! (Although we'll see how well I stick to my plan. xD )_

_Also, my thanks goes out to all of you who have left a review for my story. I have read some very thought-provoking remarks, and I love your guys' enthusiasm for the moment when MM finally gets together. I'll be honest with you—when I planned this, I thought it would be a one-shot AU with MM getting together immediately, but then I realized it was too long. Then I thought it would be a three chapter thing, but I got so many ideas that I just had to expand it. This story has gotten away from me a little bit (in terms of length), but I sincerely hope you all enjoy the direction I choose to take this story in. Thank you for muddling through this long A/N and congrats if you did. :) _

_Oh, and I believe I have messages to answer to, and I'll get to those after I get off work tonight. But I wanted to post this chapter because it's been sitting here in my Doc Manager for a few days._

_Another short chapter, but I do hope you enjoy it! :D_

* * *

Lady Mary Crawley did not regret the things she had said. She chose her words cautiously and carefully, even the ones spoken out of anger or on a whim. Those feelings had been brewing inside her for two years, waiting to be shared with the only boy—man, now—that mattered.

No, Mary could honestly say she didn't regret yelling at Matthew last night. But as she straightened up a soldier's bed while he was out for a walk, she realized he hadn't been quite as forthcoming with his feelings as she had.

But that kiss...That _kiss_...

"Reliving our duet, I see."

The sudden introduction of his voice in her thoughts startled her, causing her to visibly jump. She saw what looked like a satisfied grin slide across his lips and she wanted to shove him away. Instead, she settled for rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Pray, what are you referring to?"

"You were just humming the song we sang yesterday at the concert," he said, his voice shadowed with doubt as his eyebrows raised slightly in a hesitation that wasn't there before.

"Was I?" she said, trying to play it off. Had she really been humming the song without realizing it? "It is rather catchy, you know. I suppose it's stuck in my head from all the practicing."

Matthew tried not to look too crestfallen. "Mary...I wonder if I might have a word," he paused, glancing around the crowded house, "Alone?"

Mary finally stopped her bedmaking to look up at him. Just by looking at him, she could feel his hands in her hair and on her waist, taste his lips against hers. She felt her face flush softly, but she gave him a nod. "We'll have to go outside, I'm afraid," she said, smoothing out the sheets one last time, "There isn't a quiet room left in the house." Apart from her bedroom, but she wasn't about to take him up there in broad daylight.

* * *

They walked together in silence across the grounds until they reached the familiar tree with the bench beneath it. Mary took inventory of their surroundings, making sure they were alone, before turning to face him. "Well, here we are," she said, offering him a smile, "Alone, as requested."

Matthew stared at her, his thoughts racing, unsure of where to begin. He tucked his hat under his arm, sighing as he rubbed his face. "Mary, I...I would like to apologize for my behavior last night.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she quickly recovered. "It's alright, Matthew, I assure you," she said, her voice wavering. No, she did not regret what she said, but she very much wished he would stop what he was about to do. "I won't breathe a word of it to anyone, not even La—" She felt tears sting her eyes and a lump formed in her throat, restricting her ability to speak. How could she be so stupid to think he still cared for her? She tried to clear her throat so she could finish her sentence, but it sounded more like she was trying to muffle a sob. She would not cry. Not in front of him.

He watched her closely, licking his lips, a feeling of helplessness washing over his body. He put his hat down on the bench before moving to wrap his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest. "Mary," he muttered into her hair, "I don't have much time left here..."

She was doing all she could to keep from falling apart. His embrace was such a welcome comfort that she almost gave in to him. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. He smelled like the fireplace in his room; he must have left his uniform near it before he had gone to bed last night. The smell of burning wood was one of her favorites, and she took a long moment to breathe it in deeply. God only knew the next time she would see him. But she knew he could not stay. He wasn't hers to keep. "You should go see Lavinia before you leave," she whispered into his shoulder. She felt him stiffen in her arms and she pulled back to look up at him.

The look of hesitation returned to his face. "What if..." he began, his hands resting on her hips, "What if I didn't want to see Lavinia?"

She furrowed her brow, shrugging gently. "I suppose you don't have to see her if you don't want to, though she _is_ your fiancée."

"You mistake me, Mary," he said, the hesitation still filling his voice. His eyes lit up, though, like a child upon seeing his presents on Christmas. "I don't want to leave Downton because...Well, because there is someone far more important to me here."

Her eyes widened in shock. She pulled out of his embrace, her eyes focused on his face. He must be mad...Or drunk. "Matthew," she whispered fiercely, "Do you know what you are saying?"

"For the first time in my life, yes, I think I do," he said, his voice slightly on edge. She never ceased to amaze him. Would she always tell him how he felt and what to say? He reached for her, taking her hand in both of his, like a peace offering. "Last night you—and your grandmother, actually—made me realize something." He was nervous. He could feel the knots in his stomach and he was surprised his hands weren't shaking. He pulled her closer, gazing down into her wide brown eyes. "You are the most important person in my life, Mary Crawley, ever since you first arrived at Crawley House four years ago. I don't know how I didn't realize this sooner." He paused again, collecting his thoughts, caressing her hand, "You are the one I want to sp—"

"Stop," she commanded, her breathless whisper barely audible, "You forget yourself and so do I. We are promised to others. You cannot do this."

He shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. I know exactly what I am saying and I have known for years, only I hadn't worked up the courage to tell you."

"Matthew, please," she said, her heart slowly breaking within her chest, "You are not yourself. I won't hold you to this, nor will I hold any of this against you, but I—"

"What must I do to convince you I am serious?" he cut in, his voice edging on desperation.

Mary raised an eyebrow at him; she had never seen Matthew like this before. He was right—she wasn't convinced, not in the least. He could say all these beautiful things and talk of how he cared for her for years, but it didn't mean anything, not really. "Prove it. Words are hollow and mean nothing in such hard times as these. If you truly mean what you say, then prove it."

She had never seen him leave in such a rush before.

* * *

"Where was Crawley going in such a hurry?"

Mary froze. She had no sooner set foot in the house and he was already questioning her. It seemed like he was always there, wanting to know absolutely everything, whether it concerned him or not. She hadn't realized he was arriving at Downton so early; she knew he was coming for dinner and to stay for a few days, but why did he feel the need to show up in the morning? She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts, pushing Matthew out of her mind, before stepping into the room, a smile plastered on her face.

"Sir Richard," she said with forced cheerfulness, "When did you arrive? If I had known you were coming so early, I would have met you at the station. Did Papa send the car?"

"Of course, of course," Richard said, nodding a bit, "So tell me—where was Crawley off to so quickly?"

Why did he insist upon calling Matthew by his last name? Perhaps Richard didn't feel comfortable calling Matthew by his Christian name; they barely knew each other after all. Still, it seemed rude. "He's off to Crawley House," she lied, "Then he's catching the train to London to see Miss Swire."

"Off to see his beloved before he returns to the front?" he pressed, an eyebrow raised at her.

Mary's back straightened as she nodded. "I suppose so. You can't blame him for that," she said, rubbing her hands together, "Though I do believe he's returning here tomorrow."

He took a seat in one of the chairs, his eyes on Mary while she hovered by the door through which she had entered. "What other business does he have at Downton?" he questioned, smoothing his hair, "Don't you think it's rather odd he doesn't want to spend his remaining time with Miss Swire?"

"Honestly, Sir Richard—"

"Richard, please," he cut in, "How many times must I tell you?"

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Richard, I have no idea how Matthew's brain works. Perhaps he's bringing Miss Swire here with him. He does have two days left, so it wouldn't surprise me."

"Good," he said, not offering up any explanation as to why it was good, "I should hope he brings her back with him. I would like to get to know them both better."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Richard had taken interest with the immediate family and how to run an estate, but never with Matthew. She had always thought it was because of her broken engagement to Matthew that made Richard uneasy. "Do you mean that, truly?"

"Of course." He stood, crossing the room, taking her hand in his, "I must keep an eye on my darling fiancée and her friends, mustn't I?"

There was the Richard Carlisle she knew.

* * *

_A/N: Dun dun dunnnnn! The villain has returned! (And next chapter will feature more of him, shh.) I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hello lovelies! I know it's been a while since I've updated this sucker. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to write the first two scenes. I knew exactly what I wanted, but I couldn't get it out on paper the right way. So, these first two scenes are flashbacks to May 1916. The last scene with Matthew is present day for season two, so it would take place in 1918._

_I hope you enjoy this one! :D_

* * *

"A party?!" Mary said incredulously, "Who does he think he is?"

"Baron William Waldorf Astor, I believe," Rosamund said sharply, "And it is a great honor to be invited over to his estate. We should consider ourselves lucky."

Mary didn't like the pointed nature of her aunt's tone of voice. She raised a brow at her aunt. "_Baron_ Astor, is it? So we're just giving away titles now, I see."

"Baron Astor is one of the most powerful men in all of England right now." Rosamund pressed on, ignoring the look of sheer disapproval on Mary's face. "You are going to the party if I have to drag you the whole way there."

"Aunt Rosamund, can't you see it's in such poor taste? What with the war and everything, no one is living their life the way they used to," she argued, her mind briefly drifting to Matthew.

"I agree the timing could be better," Rosamund conceded, "But for you, the timing could not be better. Now, it's tomorrow night. Be ready no later than six forty five."

Mary watched her aunt retreat further into her London home, positively glowing, as if the Baron himself had asked for her hand. Mary, however, was less impressed. Only an American would dare to throw a lavish party while the country was living under the shadow of a war.

* * *

Mary entered the lavish estate, her eyes scanning the room disapprovingly. Despite her aunt's urgings, she had refused to leave the house in anything but black. It worked for a formal party, she knew, but she also knew most young women at the party would be adorned in brightly-colored-verging-on-gaudy dresses. Those dresses had no place out on display at a time like this.

Upon entering, Rosamund immediately set off for Baron Astor, the widowed host. Of course, her searching was partially innocent—just to thank him for the invitation—and partially not. He had been the most eligible widower for twenty two years. Most had given up, but Rosamund hadn't even tried yet.

Watching her aunt flit around the room like a new debutante, Mary sighed. The party wasn't as huge as she had thought it would be, and for that, she was thankful. She noted each man in the room had attracted three or four women; such was the state of England during the war. The only men left were far too young or too old. A servant brought Mary a glass of champagne and she thank him for it. Such odd traditions were practiced here.

She finally set foot into the party, nodding to a few girls she knew as she passed. She wasn't ready to talk to anyone just yet, so she walked over to a window to survey the grounds, swirling the champagne in her glass.

"You don't look like you want to be here very much." An unfamiliar raspy voice sounded beside her

Mary turned to look at the man standing next to her. The first thing that caught her attention was his blue eyes. Her chest tightened as she thought of the blue-eyed soldier fighting somewhere in France. Finally, she raised an indifferent eyebrow. "I don't, particularly," she replied, "But I wasn't given much choice."

An amused grin slid across the man's face. "My, my. Most young women would consider it a blessing to b invited to Baron Astor's estate."

_Baron Astor_. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the gentleman out of fear of offending him. "Ordinarily I would agree," she said, pausing to take a sip of her champagne, "But we are in the middle of a war. Now is not the time to be throwing extravagant parties. Don't you agree, Mr...?" She thought it rather impolite that he hadn't introduced himself properly yet.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, nodding his head from side to side, "Perhaps the Baron just wants to keep spirits up on the home front." Taking her cue, he smiled at her, "Sir Richard Carlisle, Miss..?"

"Lady Mary Crawley," she corrected, "And if _Baron_ Astor wanted to keep spirits up, he could donate to the cause."

Richard couldn't help but chuckle at her comment. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Lady Mary Crawley."

* * *

Matthew made his way through the streets of London, eager to put this behind him. Mary asked him to prove it, to prove how much he cared for her, and he knew this would do the trick. But he knew it would be difficult, too. He did care for Lavinia, but Mary...

He walked up the stairs to Lavinia's home and knocked on the door. He turned to glance around the street when he heard the door open, flashing a quick smile to MacColl before sliding past the butler and into the house. "Afternoon, MacColl. Where might I find Miss Swire?"

"Goodday, Mr. Crawley," MacColl replied, giving the man in the olive green army uniform a nod, "She's in the sitting room, sir. Would you like me to—?"

"No, no, that's quite alright," Matthew cut in, "She and I need to talk for a moment...In private."

MacColl nodded and set off for the kitchen, leaving Matthew alone in the hall.

Inhaling deeply, Matthew set off for the sitting room.

"Matthew!" Lavinia cried, immediately rising from her chair, "I didn't know you were on leave! How long have you been home?"

"I got in yesterday," Matthew replied, taking a seat on the divan. He knew she had expected a kiss on the hand or the cheek or, at the very least, an embrace. He had to be hard about it. No touching. No kissing. No anything.

Lavinia sat back down in her chair, trying to keep the look of confusion off her face. "Is everything alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"Actually, I...I wondered if we might talk for a moment," he said, his head swimming.

"Of course," she replied, trying to be her usual cheerful self.

"You see, I've been thinking," he said, trying to pretend she wasn't answering him.

"About what?"

He sighed at the interruption. He would never get through this if Lavinia kept interrupting. "About...Us."

"Oh." Lavinia looked a little crestfallen. "What about us?"

"Lavinia, please," Matthew said, his voice edging on impatience, "I have been thinking...That perhaps we rushed into this."

Lavinia's heart sunk into her stomach. "R-Rushed into this?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes. We scarcely spent time together and suddenly we are engaged? Don't you find that slightly...Ridiculous?"

Lavinia shook her head, "Well, no, not really. Plenty of people have done the same thing and they are perfectly happy now."

"I just—I don't think it's right...For us," he explained halfheartedly.

"Matthew, what are you saying?" Her eyes had filled with tears as she watched him. This couldn't be happening...Not _her_ Matthew.

"Lavinia," he said, trying to make his voice firm, "I din't think we should continue this any further."

She paused for a long while, studying his face. "But...Why?" she asked meekly.

He couldn't tell her the real reason and he hadn't thought of a suitable fake one yet. "Trust me when I say I'm no good for you."

"How can you say that?" she asked breathlessly, "I love you and you love me. Don't you?"

"Lavinia, I—" he began, desperate to make her understand, "Of course I love you, but I—"

"There!" she cut in, "You love me, so why are you—"

"There's someone else!" His voice rang out loudly through the sitting room, dominating the meek, quiet voice of Lavinia. As soon as he'd said it, he regretted it. He hadn't wanted to tell her like that. In fact, he hadn't planned on telling her at all today. Mary still had some things to settle on her side.

A look of shock settled on her face. She gaped at him, unable or unwilling to process the information he had given her. After a few moments, she finally collected herself. "Fine," she said resolutely, "Consider our arrangement canceled. You may go now, Mr. Crawley."

Matthew looked stunned by her sudden change of heart. He was expecting hysterics, screaming, yelling, _begging_ him not to leave. Perhaps that was his own vanity talking. He nodded and stood without a word, walking back to the door.

Lavinia followed him, seeing him out instead of calling for MacColl. "Matthew."

He spun around to look at her, pausing in the open door. "Yes?"

"If you're ever in London again..." she began, raising a brow at him in a way that so reminded him of Mary, "Don't look me up."

Matthew gave her a parting nod, placing his hat on his head before walking out into the street. Despite Lavinia's final jab, he wasn't in a foul mood.

He had a train to catch.

* * *

_A/N: Ahhh! So Matthew finally did it! I've been planning this little breakup all along, ever since I realized this could be a multi-chapter fic, but I didn't know how I was going to do it until I wrote it tonight. Please let me know what you think! :D_


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